This isn't the way we plannedI wasn't supposed to forget your tasteLike nights spent figuring all the ways that we came to this placeThere we were alone on top of your old rooftop in Highland ParkBut ask me now

Say, "Chris look out across the sky and tell me which way the wind blows."A core of coalA core of coal and starches in within meBut even now that you're not hereI climb these mountains of houses every nightI say your name and I wish I could have done things right.